Packing.

this occurrence does not happen very often, and when it does it’s under great surveillance.

I’m counting down the days of course, and I’m at 9 days left. I feel really excited, obviously, because my freedom levels went from a 3 or a 4 to a 10+++++. I can’t deny that my parents have been pretty chill over the years, even when I screwed up pretty bad. There was a point in time that I thought my mom had no mercy, but I soon realized that was not the case. Though I don’t think she would forgive me if I ever came home with a child when I wasn’t married.

Back to the matter at hand. PACKING.

Damn!

I never really had the experience of packing for more than a week. There are so many different emotions that one goes through. And I think for females it’s just hell. The paranoia of leaving things, the fear of packing too much, the fear of packing too little, thinking of every situation where you might need a certain item…so on so forth.

On top of this misery for me, I’m also in the midst of packing to move houses, so basically I have two separate boxes of clothes, items etc. you know because I wasn’t being tortured already.

So I don’t think the reality has still hit me yet, I am excited I’m leaving but I haven’t grasped the fact that everything will be different and continue to stay different for the next 5 years of my life. And that it’s basically a new start. There’s no running back home because you’re scared or can’t handle the pressure.

There are moments where I wish I can go back to being four, then there are moments where I’m glad the age I am.